


Hurt me, love me, hate me, save me

by crookedspoon



Series: Rounds of Kink [14]
Category: Batman: White Knight
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fingerfucking, Hate Sex, Introspection, POV Marian Drews, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-12 01:20:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13536624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: Marian thought she knew what she was getting herself into when the Joker called her Harley and she didn't correct him.Companion toYour chains are my chains, too.





	Hurt me, love me, hate me, save me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> For "costume" and "wall sex" at rok's New Year's mini round and Day #8 "Long form (over 1,000)" at 1mw's [Give it a Whirl](https://1-million-words.livejournal.com/2246488.html) challenge.
> 
> This was supposed to be longer, but the challenge ended on Jan 31 and I've been rather blocked.

Marian thought she knew what she was getting herself into when the Joker called her Harley and she didn't correct him.

Maybe it was the barrel that had stared her in the face only moments before. It _had_ been the reason she helped him clean out the bank. _Let him direct you as he pleases, keep your head down, don't get killed._ She was afraid of seeing it again, because when she did, it would mean her life would be over and she'd just found a new appreciation for it.

It was a strange, unfamiliar feeling, this sudden urge to live, but like it or not, that's what she wanted more than anything, and if it meant a little deception and a little aiding and abetting, then she'd be willing to take that risk. As long as he thought she was his girlfriend, he wouldn't put a bullet through her head. 

Probably. 

Not like you could ever be sure with the Joker. 

But something told her that he wouldn't. 

Something in the way of how he said her name. He had a special way of saying it. _Harley._ He said it like it was a joke, like _she_ was a joke and that he only allowed her to tag along to do his bidding. At the same time he said it with so much authority – like he owned her, like he just knew she'd jump to action no matter the task, that he would not be disappointed, that he could trust her with anything.

Something had softened in Marian then, even as she was trembling from the high tension. One wrong move and she could be exposed. 

But no one ratted her out. Either the Joker's henchmen were as afraid of him as she was and didn't want to speak up unless spoken to, or they really believed that she was Harley. That maybe she'd been planted in the bank to help them rob it. Wouldn't have been the strangest plan out there.

For her part, she just grinned as best she could and called him Mr. J and waited for her chance to get out.

It didn't come. 

Or maybe it did and she never realized. He'd rushed them to their hideout with their spoils, where he thrust one of Harley's old costumes at Marian. That could have been her out. She could have slipped away in the night when his back was turned, but she didn't.

She couldn't. It wasn't that she'd been paralyzed with fear or that she nearly fainted from the loss of blood – okay, she did nearly faint, but that was beside the point. The point was that he took care of her wounds, that he made her laugh, that he showed her a different side to him than the one she'd been used to seeing in the tabloids. There was something charming about him, and all of a sudden she could understand why Harley must have stayed with him all that time.

Which meant that she had to stay too, since she was his new Harley, or so she told herself.

It was loony. It was suicide. But it was also the only thing she _could_ do. What if he found out she wasn't Harley? What if Harley came back? What if her cover was blown by any other crook who knew Harley?

She didn't want to lose the trust he was putting in her. More and more, it was becoming the one thing she could not lose. After all, what else did she have? She couldn't show her face at the bank anymore and her boyfriend had made it clear he wanted nothing more to do with her either. She'd never managed to bond with her colleagues at work, and the customers would sooner complain she wasn't doing her job quickly enough than to care that she was bleeding out behind the counter. 

She'd clung to that job at the bank with the sheer desperation of a person with nowhere else to turn, same as she'd done with her boyfriend, but one brush with death had given her a new perspective. Not to mention a new job and a new boyfriend. Sort of.

It had given her a second chance.

And all she had to do was impersonate someone else well enough to pass scrutiny. It helped that Harley covered her face in greasepaint and pitched her voice to sound annoying. It helped that she was ignored most of the time. No one looked at her twice. Not even the Joker.

That stung for some reason, as though she _wanted_ the Joker to find out, to see her for who she was. Not a copy, but herself.

Still, she'd rather not be force-fed sticks of dynamite when he did find out.

As long as no one questioned Marian, she couldn't question herself. Of _course_ it was her acting skills that had everyone fooled. Because if it was not, she would have to admit that no one ever cared enough about Harley to pay any attention to her. And that would mean no one cared about Marian – the new Harley.

If Harley could be replaced, Marian could be replaced in turn. And if she disappeared, no one would be the wiser, because she wasn't important. She was just window dressing.

It wasn't exactly what she thought she'd be in for her when she signed up for the job – or had been signed up. Not like she ever showed up for an interview. 

She expected there to be a little more hands-on experience. A little more overtime. A little more harassment at the work place. If Mr. J thought she was his Harley, surely he'd want to get cozy sometime.

It confused her when Mr. J never laid a hand on her. She was under the impression that anything could happen with him in the room. 

But nothing ever did.

At first, she'd been anxious in his company. He had a mean temper and his mood swings could be so violent at times, but most of it was occupied by flipping out at Batman. He might have screamed in her direction at times, but he never hit her. Yet little by little, she began wishing he did. It would have been proof that he was still aware of her existence.

That had been all she wanted. For him to notice her. Even if it came with punishment.

In a way, it was easier to handle the idea of him venting his frustrations on her, maybe even forcing himself on her, than to admit to the romantic attachment that was budding inside her. After all, Marian hated romance and feelings and everything of that sort. It just led to being dumped and hurting and wanting to die all over again.

Which is what happened when he was released from Arkham, but it wasn't Mr. J who returned to her. It was some disappointment named Jack, who had the audacity of calling her Harley.

She didn't want _him,_ he was boring. She wanted the Joker back, but Jack wouldn't let him out again. So Marian became trouble for him and his little lovebird, Harleen.

Marian hated them both for doing this to her, but she had to hand it to Harleen, she got guts. 

There was no love lost between the two of them. Harleen ruined the one good thing in Marian's life. Or granted, maybe it had been Batman who ruined it by making the Joker sane again, but it was Harleen who kept the Joker trapped in Jack's body. If it hadn't been for her, maybe Marian could have convinced Jack to let him out again.

But when Harley offered her a compromise, to be the Joker Marian had always dreamed of in exchange for leaving them alone, how could she refuse? She'd spent too long shivering in anticipation of the first slap, the first twisted arm, the first mean words whispered into her ear. Harley had delivered all of that, and more, the very first night.

Marian still shudders remembering it.

Harleen had come to her in the dead of night, wearing one of Mr. J's old suits. She'd backed her against the wall, next to a display of jack-in-the-boxes, making sure she'd inhale his scent that still clung to the fabric.

They didn't kiss, but Harleen's breath ghosted over the sensitive skin of Marian's neck, and her fingers had caressed their way into her booty shorts, gloves and all. Marian was so angry at her, yet the suggestion of Mr. J doing this to her – finally touching her, finally _using_ her – got her excited.

She was wet from the slaps and the bites and the manhandling before, but Harleen's gloved fingers still hurt when she pressed them inside Marian.

"Ow," Marian complained, somewhat irrationally, since she literally begged the other woman to hurt her just moments before. "Watch where you're sticking those."

Harleen's chuckle was a register too low for comfort when Marian felt those fingers tease her anal sphincter. "Prefer them here?"

"Don't you dare," Marian hissed. 

"Sweetheart." Harleen shushed her with a finger to her lips again. "You want daddy's attention, you got it. And yet I don't hear you thanking me."

"For what?"

"Nevermind," she said, removed her hand from between Marian's legs, then peeled off her glove and shoved it into Marian's mouth. "Just look pretty."

Marian was about to spit the glove into Harleen's face when the woman's fingers caressed her again, this time with no pesky fabric getting in the way.

"Look at you," Harleen said, "so ready to give it up. Do you spread your legs for everyone who comes in here and shoves you around a little?"

Marian shook her head, somewhat indignant.

"You know what happens when you lie to me, sweets." Harleen's wet fingers circled Marian's clit. "This is me being nice to you."

The sudden flick of a switchblade startled Marian. She could see its edge gleaming in the light from the streets.

"This is not," Harleen said and pressed the flat of the blade against Marian's cheek.

Any residual anger Marian might have had was forgotten on the spot, as she grabbed fistfuls of Harleen's suit and hooked a leg around her to keep her close.

Marian wanted to tell her how good she could be. Instead, she held her gaze and gyrated her hips.

Harleen cocked her head and slid the switchblade down Marian's jaw to her neck. Her shadowed grin was unmistakable. 

She flicked the knife shut at the same time as she pushed her fingers deeper.

Marian gave a muffled cry and banged her head against the wall, suddenly overcome with the urge to kiss the other woman. Instead, she bit down on the glove inside her mouth and buried her nose into the collar of Harleen's shirt. 

She'd just formed the image of Mr. J in her mind, imagining it was him who was using her like this, when Harleen dropped her on her ass.

"It's been fun, doll," Harleen said as she licked her fingers clean, "but daddy's gotta split. Holler if you want a repeat performance."

With her still-gloved hand raised in farewell, she backed out of the door.

Only a few other times in her life Marian had come close to feeling this humiliated. Harleen treated her like nothing more than a distraction, and not necessarily a welcome one at that.

Not that she _wanted_ Harleen to treat her any differently, but she _was_ disappointed she didn't stay longer.

Marian got herself off right there on the floor where Harleen left her, guiltily reconstructing the shadowed outline of her face into something like disdain. 

She had expected any number of things to happen when she fell in with the Joker, but having sex with the woman she replaced wasn't on that list.

The worst part was that Harleen had somehow figured out all of Marian's buttons and played her like a concertina. If Harleen was willing to go this far to protect her little dream of playing house with Jack, Marian might be inclined to tip her hat.

But only for as long as she delivered.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Doppelgänger, I Love You" by Zeromancer.
> 
> [Reblog here](https://crookedspoonfic.tumblr.com/post/170397168225/wip-week-day-2-newest-wip).


End file.
